


The Shopping Raid

by toxicdumpingground



Category: The Rat Patrol
Genre: Fem Same Troy, Mentions of childbirth, b/c i can, shopping trips, ww 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicdumpingground/pseuds/toxicdumpingground
Summary: A captain, a sergeant, and a baby.
Kudos: 6





	The Shopping Raid

**Author's Note:**

> Utter nonsense.

More often than not, Captain Dietrich’s thoughts were consumed by a singular person. It wasn’t peculiar that this was the case. His enemies ought to consume his thoughts and the idea of how to destroy them ought to have been a constant background thought. It was the case, how to destroy the Rat Patrol. How to outthink them, how to trap them, how to trick them, and how to bring the reign of terror to an end. 

And this most often coincided with thoughts of Sam Troy. Sergeant Sam Troy, an anomaly in every sense of the word. Strange by any nation’s standards, and dangerous by every soldier’s standards. Clever, quick-witted, a crack-shot, and dangerous as the elements that sought to kill Germans, Brits, and Americans alike. 

How had Sergeant Troy even gotten a command? That, Dietrich, didn’t know and could only guess. But the woman had wreaked havoc across the front for months before he had been called in to do something about it. He had been awarded high honors for killing a single member of the Rat Patrol. Only for the man to be replaced by a dangerous British professor. How the Brit agreed and managed to be commanded by the American woman, Dietrich could only guess. He wondered, at times, if they were carrying on an affair. 

Sergeant Troy was nothing like the high-born British woman that Moffit was destined to marry, certainly nothing like any woman Moffit had met before. Strong and steady with her unusual hat and her unusual personality and her unusual life.

A woman in the desert, commanding troops, destroying supply depots, and evading capture, and shooting men. Their most effective agent it seemed, and that was perhaps the reason Allied command hadn’t pulled her out. 

He stared down at his journal, wondering if it was madness stealing over him. Dietrich had refused to take Sergeant Troy any less seriously and having been mocked for it and his failure, he still had so little to show for it. 

Sitting on his page was a detailed sketch of the woman, her black hair short and pinned back, the ever-present bush cap jammed on her head. Taller than most women and some men, but shorter than Dietrich by a good foot. Broad-shouldered and sturdy, and he knew first-hand just how strong she was. She packed a solid, dangerous punch that could flatten anyone in her way. They had fought, fist-fighting, and scrambling over their dirt and sand for their goals, and he knew the strength that lay beneath her skin. 

He never would have expected this to happen, and the few times he’d captured her, he’d taken excellent care to behave exactly as an officer and gentlemen. Excluding the time he’d tricked the woman into thinking she was in an Allied aid station. Which, he had been a gentleman, merely a trickster. 

His men knew by now that Troy was a threat at all times, and not to be dallied with. Other officers were not so discerning and frequently suffered for it. His success ratio against Troy was the highest...and that wasn’t saying much.

A trained nurse turned commando...in any other story that would be the joke. For Dietrich, it was not a joke. It was the fact that plagued him from his waking hours to his dreams. 

He wondered if he ever consumed the good sergeant’s thoughts. 

#$#$3 

The Australian bush hat was a leftover from the Great War, a gift from her mother that had come from her own brother. The hat Sam Troy’s uncle had worn and died in. It meant more to Sam than most would know, although Tully had probably suspected. 

It was quiet at the moment, no one to fight, and nothing to blow up. If it weren’t for the unnecessary weight that a third tent would bring, Sam would have gotten her own tent. As such, she had to share with Moffit. He was painfully British in many respects but still seemed more suited to the desert than any of them. More than Troy, she’d grown up in soggy farmland and a ranch that got more than two feet of snow every single winter month. It was a year for adapting. 

“A penny for your thoughts?” Moffit’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced up from the map. 

“We haven’t gotten any new orders and I don’t do well in the downtime.” 

“I see,” the brit paused, “we are on leave Sergeant...I understand some of the nurses are taking a collective day out to the neutral town not far from here. Intelligence indicates that there aren’t any Germans nearby.” 

“You think I need a day off?” She asked, wondering what it would be like to be around the nurses again. She knew them, she’d transferred in with some of them, but it was her appointment to the Long range desert patrol that put them at odds. Still, they were mostly friendly. Save for that new Boston nurse. Nurses did have all the best gossip. 

“They might also need an escort,” Moffit suggested and Troy scoffed. 

“They sent you in?” 

“They would like you to go with them. I understand they want to take you shopping.” 

“Shopping?” She could use a few new things, but she hated shopping. Almost anything else she could manage, but shopping brought back ugly memories of her aunts and grandmothers trying to wack the woman into her. 

“As well as a hefty deterrent for anyone on leave,” Moffit said, and Troy nodded and picked up her hat as she stood.

“Don’t let Hitch and Tully get into too much trouble. I’ll be back.” 

“Of course, sergeant. If you see any good tea,” Moffit suggested and Troy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“I’ll pick some up.” She retorted and crossed the camp to the gaggle of nurses that were sitting in a jeep and waiting for her. A cheer arose as she joined them. 

“A good trick getting Moffit in on it,” Troy told them smirking, and Nurse Kelly winked at her. 

“We needed someone to put in a good word, and you’ve been out in the desert too long.” 

“Its fine,” she slung herself into the jeep, “Indy, don’t drive like this is a race please.” 

“I thought you liked fast and furious,” Nurse Indy scoffed, taking off with such speed and suddenness that the nearest guard had to throw himself out of the way to avoid getting run down. 

“Yeah.” Troy clung to the side of the jeep as the other nurses whooped and hollered. Tully, glancing at the noise, waved as she passed by. Troy would never admit to it, but Indy was a superior driver to Tully. Long before Troy had fallen in with the rat patrol, she’d worked extensively in the back of a truck bouncing along the dirt roads as Indy drove like a madwoman to evade capture and destruction. Out of curiosity, Troy wanted to pitch Indy next to Troy and Dietrich’s driver and she knew who she’d put money on. 

Once upon a time such driving would have made her sick, but roaring across the desert clinging to a machine gun had cured her of any motion sickness. 

The town was small, along several ancient and modern trading routes, and while neutral they catered to both Allied and Axis visitors. Troy, having a hefty price on her head, tried not to venture near towns where Germans were allowed/welcomed. It wasn’t safe, and more than one over enthusiastic soldier had tried to kidnap her while on leave. But there was safety in numbers and men who were willing to attack Troy when she was on her own, never wanted to mess with an entire gaggle of nurses. 

“So, Sam,” they pulled to a stop, and Indy, Kelly, Helen, and two others climbed out of the jeep. “What can we get you to get today?”

“Nothing I’ll miss if it catches fire or gets lost,” Troy replied wryly, securing her chin strap of her hat and grinning. 

“Not even perfume?” Kelly asked, looping her arms with Troy’s and leaning into her side.

“Perfume explodes,” Troy responded, remembering the one time she’d worn perfume before a mission. The scent hadn’t faded, and Dietrich had literally sniffed her out as she tried to sneak through his compound. “And it’s noticeable.” He’d looked like he decide of she was mad or if he was when she’d been dragged into the spotlight. 

“Oh, poo,” Indy grabbed at Troy’s other arm, and they wandered into the town were the shops and stalls were set up. “We need to get you something! Earrings! Ribbons! Something!” 

“Ribbons?” Troy suggested, and thought about the threadbare ribbon keeping her hair back at the moment. Hitch and Tully had pitched in to get her a nice blue ribbon, which had quickly become faded and torn as the missions dragged on. Then it had gotten lost, and she was using shoestrings at the moment. 

“What color?” Indy asked, and Troy grinned. 

“Same as every, Indy, blue if we can find it, and green if you can’t.”

“Then let’s go!” Troy let herself be dragged through the town, grinning even as she mentally clocked the town for enemies and searched around to see if there were snipers in the distance. 

#$#$#

Dietrich was taking a rare moment of leave. Not that it was technically leave, he was with his aide and a few others to look for clerical supplies in one of the few places in the desert that were neutral. It was a nice little town, and a little removed from the rest of the war but still beleaguered and tired. He moved through the streets, watching for any Americans, and listening for their jeeps.

“This would be a good place for Americans to have leave,” he suggested to his aide, feeling the itchy nervousness under his skin that he knew came from not knowing where the allied camp was. True, the British were in charge of the area and the presence of American volunteers was damn near impossible to understand some days but he’d rather fight the brits over the Americans...as long as someone took Sam Troy far from him, and her damn jeep. 

“Yes, sir.” Corporal Lang looked around nervously. “I hope not. That would mean that they were closer than we thought.” 

“Agreed.” 

He moved into the city and into the shops to look around, admiring the shops, the beautiful clothes, and the sights of civilization that was sorely lacking in a military camp. He offered a few of the local girl’s smiles, and they vanished into shops and homes. 

The first sign of trouble was when a young boy sprinted up to him, ignoring the uniform and the guns, he latched onto Dietrich’s sleeve and started blurting in rapid-fire Arabic. 

“Can you help me! Please! My sister needs help but the nurses don’t know what I’m saying! Please, help!” 

“Help?” Dietrich, tried and allowed the boy to tug him through the town until they were in a small cafe. He knew, before he looked, that he had walked into trouble or a trap. He raised his eyes from the lad to see a group of American nurses. They were equally started, and their hands gripped their bags, glasses, and bottles as if to use them as weapons.  
He blinked and met Sam Troy’s eyes, a beer glass raised to her lips and glowering. The bright blue eyes pierced him, and he dutifully relayed the young man’s request. 

“What sort of help?” 

“Sam,” one of the nurses whispered, “that kid was here before.” 

“He says that his sister is giving birth and needs assistance. The midwife isn’t here today.” 

“Where?” One of the smaller nurses, with shocking red hair, straightened.

He dutifully relayed the question to the boy, who babbled out an address and promised to lead the way  
.  
“Do we want to keep the captain,” a nurse whispered to Sam, and she shrugged. 

“We’re going to need a translator,” she said, ignoring the animosity between them in favor of the patient. Having been at Sam Troy’s tender mercies before, he had to admire her dedication to her work. 

“Yeah.” Dietrich tried not to feel like a gentleman escorting ladies. He was a soldier, they were technically the enemy, but they were also ladies. Sam Troy was the bane of his existence, but she was so much more. 

This sort of introspection usually kept him up late at night, so he veered away from those thoughts and dutifully translated for the nurses who were asking questions of the boy. He was supposed to be a little uncomfortable with the line of questioning, but he stayed calm. 

Helping a few American nurses help deliver the child was not what he’d enlisted in the military for, but Fate often had other plans.

“We’ll both not mention this to anyone,” Troy told him, watching the mother and the child as the nurses cooed around them. 

“I will make no mention of it,” Dietrich agreed, watching the woman as she slapped the hat against her side. “Is that a new ribbon?” 

Troy glanced up at him as if he’d lost his mind. Dietrich, standing this close to his mortal enemy after having just helped her deliver a child, thought he might be. 

“If that is all, Sergeant,” he saluted the woman, tucked his cap under his arm, and retreated before he could make a mistake of engaging the woman in further conversation. 

“Hey,” she called and he considered walking on, but turned around. “Good job on bringing the kid to us.” 

“Of course,” he nodded and met Corporal Lang at the bottom of the stairs. The young man looked a little too knowing for Dietrich’s peace of mind, so he ignored it and planned to drink enough to help him forget this afternoon.


End file.
